Bohemienne
by firelily18
Summary: AU. Erik is the Minister of Justice in Paris who persecutes all gypsies due to a childhood trauma. Raoul is Captain of the Archers, the son of a French nobleman who is forcefully betrothed. What happens when the two of them encounter Christine, the Gypsy Queen, the daughter of a white French man and black former slave? Based on Notre Dame de Paris and The Hunchback of Notre Dame.
1. Captured

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, Notre Dame de Paris, or The Hunchback of Notre Dame. So sorry for the long wait! Enjoy the chapter anyway!**_

It was Christmas Eve when Christine met her beloved Angel of Music.

Philippe (Or Clopin as everyone else knew him), the son of a french nobleman and his black mistress, had warned her not to go out, that he feared there was going to be a huge snowstorm underway but Christine just shook off his warnings. It was Christmas Eve! Even with gypsies people tended to me generous, handing out leftover fruits and bread to them and even sometimes giving candy to the children. Besides Christine was the best money maker out of all the gypsies, due no doubt to her beauty. With the earnings she made it would be possible for them to survive the harsh Paris Winter. Besides she assured him she would be back before nightfall. So with that in mind Christine departed the Court of Miracles and headed straight for the streets of Paris. She left Djali with Meg since he was sound asleep and she didn't want to wake him. She departed with one other gypsy, Alex, and together they played, sang and danced to the people's delight. It was a wonderful day. She was 'La Esmeralda' to the people and she never felt more alive than when she was performing. The purple hat was filled to the brim, it was clear crisp and beautiful that day, and she didn't hear one insult coming from any of the on lookers. She knew it was a good idea to play and sing Christmas carols. Everything was perfect.

That is until the soldiers came.

It was so sudden and so unexpected that Christine was ashamed to say she was ill prepared for them. She was always used to the lookout Michael but forgot for those moments that he wasn't there and home sick with his mother. And what's worse is they took the purple hat filled with all their earnings for that day! Even the crowd roared it's disapproval but the soldiers were just too many. Christine was shocked how many soldiers were there, it had to be over a dozen. She and Alex quickly fled and separated from the soldiers, not wanting to gamble their lives by staying another moment. Everybody knew gypsies had no rights and what soldiers did to them because of it. Alex went left, toward the Court of Miracles. Christine went right, towards Notre Dame. Most of the soldiers followed Christine. That wasn't surprising. They'd love to catch her and have their wicked way with her. Or worse, hand her over to The Minister of Justice. He'd been relentlessly harassing Christine since the moment she stepped into Paris, she had no clue as to why, and each time she'd managed to narrowly escape his wrath. And she definitely had no intention of getting caught by him on Christmas Eve in this terrible snowstorm.

Christine was running at least a half an hour until she was sure she lost the soldiers. By the time she was done she was exhausted, depressed, and a blizzard had just kicked in.

It seems Philippe was right.

The wind was so fierce it chilled her right through her undergarments. She knew she would freeze soon if she didn't find shelter. Thanks to the soldiers she was penniless and there were few places that would offer gypsies safe sanctuary but they were too far away. The snow was falling down hard, she could barely feel her feet anymore, and the only safe warm place she could find was inside Notre Dame.

Christine had been in Paris for weeks now and she had never set foot in Notre Dame. Meg had urged her to go and so had her mother, but Christine felt her heart break just _looking_ at the magnificent structure and she couldn't imagine what would happen to her if she went actually went inside. It was a constant reminder that her mother and father were dead, that they were never coming back, and their promise of one day being inside Notre Dame as a family wasn't ever going to come true.

And neither was The Angel of Music her mother and father had promised to sent her.

But now it seemed fate had intervened and Christine didn't have many options but to go inside Notre Dame. It was either that or freeze to death. She could barely feel her toes and her fingers felt like icicles. But suddenly she saw in the distance her salvation.

The stables. The stable of Notre Dame. Where they kept the horses of the rich noblemen who visited Notre Dame or just visited Paris and had no where safe to leave their horses. Notre Dame had the best stables in the entire city and all the money that they collected went to the church's funds for the poor.

Or at least that's what they said.

And so here she was, inside the stables, _way_ past sunset, next to a horse that looked like it belonged to the Devil himself. But Christine knew looks could be deceiving and that was proven as the horse turned out to be a big softy who liked it when the back of his ears were scratched. Christine laid beside him, throwing her soaked cloak and garments to the side, including her booties, and making herself comfortable in the nice warm hay, sleep quickly overcoming her.

The last thing she remembered doing is praying no one would check the stables tonight and that the storm would pass by morning so she could quickly leave undetected. But before she could fully enter the dreamworld, something cried out to her.

_'Christine.'_ She heard the most beautiful, gorgeous voice sing out to her. _'Christine.'_

Christine's eyes quickly shot open and she stood up in terror.

"Who-who are you?" She cried, her emerald eyes shooting across the stables in search for the person (Being?), fearfully clutching the horse who neighed his discomfort. The voice seemed to come from _everywhere_ and he knew her name. Her _real_ name. Very few people knew her as Christine, her stage name was Esmeralda. But this voice, this heavenly voice that couldn't possibly belong to a mere mortal, called her as if he knew her. As if he's known her all her life.

There was a long pause before the voice finally answered.

"I am your Angel of Music."

_**Author's Note: I always imagined Notre Dame had stables to keep the horses for the rich nobles who went to church every Sunday. Anyway, that was just me. Reviews please (Especially if you fav or story alert-Would it kill you to take one moment of your time to fill out the big box below?)! But remember no flames! Next chapter is Erik's POV! See you then!**_


	2. The Angel Of Music

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, Notre Dame de Paris, or The Hunchback of Notre Dame. So sorry for the long wait! Enjoy the chapter anyway!**_

It was Christmas Eve when Christine met her beloved Angel of Music.

Philippe (Or Clopin as everyone else knew him), the son of a french nobleman and his black mistress, had warned her not to go out, that he feared there was going to be a huge snowstorm underway but Christine just shook off his warnings. It was Christmas Eve! Even with gypsies people tended to me generous, handing out leftover fruits and bread to them and even sometimes giving candy to the children. Besides Christine was the best money maker out of all the gypsies, due no doubt to her beauty. With the earnings she made it would be possible for them to survive the harsh Paris Winter. Besides she assured him she would be back before nightfall. So with that in mind Christine departed the Court of Miracles and headed straight for the streets of Paris. She left Djali with Meg since he was sound asleep and she didn't want to wake him. She departed with one other gypsy, Alex, and together they played, sang and danced to the people's delight. It was a wonderful day. She was 'La Esmeralda' to the people and she never felt more alive than when she was performing. The purple hat was filled to the brim, it was clear crisp and beautiful that day, and she didn't hear one insult coming from any of the on lookers. She knew it was a good idea to play and sing Christmas carols. Everything was perfect.

That is until the soldiers came.

It was so sudden and so unexpected that Christine was ashamed to say she was ill prepared for them. She was always used to the lookout Michael but forgot for those moments that he wasn't there and home sick with his mother. And what's worse is they took the purple hat filled with all their earnings for that day! Even the crowd roared it's disapproval but the soldiers were just too many. Christine was shocked how many soldiers were there, it had to be over a dozen. She and Alex quickly fled and separated from the soldiers, not wanting to gamble their lives by staying another moment. Everybody knew gypsies had no rights and what soldiers did to them because of it. Alex went left, toward the Court of Miracles. Christine went right, towards Notre Dame. Most of the soldiers followed Christine. That wasn't surprising. They'd love to catch her and have their wicked way with her. Or worse, hand her over to The Minister of Justice. He'd been relentlessly harassing Christine since the moment she stepped into Paris, she had no clue as to why, and each time she'd managed to narrowly escape his wrath. And she definitely had no intention of getting caught by him on Christmas Eve in this terrible snowstorm.

Christine was running at least a half an hour until she was sure she lost the soldiers. By the time she was done she was exhausted, depressed, and a blizzard had just kicked in.

It seems Philippe was right.

The wind was so fierce it chilled her right through her undergarments. She knew she would freeze soon if she didn't find shelter. Thanks to the soldiers she was penniless and there were few places that would offer gypsies safe sanctuary but they were too far away. The snow was falling down hard, she could barely feel her feet anymore, and the only safe warm place she could find was inside Notre Dame.

Christine had been in Paris for weeks now and she had never set foot in Notre Dame. Meg had urged her to go and so had her mother, but Christine felt her heart break just _looking_ at the magnificent structure and she couldn't imagine what would happen to her if she went actually went inside. It was a constant reminder that her mother and father were dead, that they were never coming back, and their promise of one day being inside Notre Dame as a family wasn't ever going to come true.

And neither was The Angel of Music her mother and father had promised to sent her.

But now it seemed fate had intervened and Christine didn't have many options but to go inside Notre Dame. It was either that or freeze to death. She could barely feel her toes and her fingers felt like icicles. But suddenly she saw in the distance her salvation.

The stables. The stable of Notre Dame. Where they kept the horses of the rich noblemen who visited Notre Dame or just visited Paris and had no where safe to leave their horses. Notre Dame had the best stables in the entire city and all the money that they collected went to the church's funds for the poor.

Or at least that's what they said.

And so here she was, inside the stables, _way_ past sunset, next to a horse that looked like it belonged to the Devil himself. But Christine knew looks could be deceiving and that was proven as the horse turned out to be a big softy who liked it when the back of his ears were scratched. Christine laid beside him, throwing her soaked cloak and garments to the side, including her booties, and making herself comfortable in the nice warm hay, sleep quickly overcoming her.

The last thing she remembered doing is praying no one would check the stables tonight and that the storm would pass by morning so she could quickly leave undetected. But before she could fully entered the dreamworld, something cried out to her.

_'Christine.'_ She heard the most beautiful, gorgeous voice sing out to her. _'Christine.'_

Christine's eyes quickly shot open and she stood up in terror.

"Who-who are you?" She cried, her emerald eyes shooting across the stables in search for the person (Being?), fearfully clutching the horse who neighed his discomfort. The voice seemed to come from _everywhere_ and he knew her name. Her _real_ name. Very few people knew her as Christine, her stage name was Esmeralda. But this voice, this heavenly voice that couldn't possibly belong to a mere mortal, called her as if he knew her. As if he's known her all her life.

There was a long pause before the voice finally answered.

"I am your Angel of Music."

_**Author's Note: I always imagined Notre Dame had stables to keep the horses for the rich nobles who went to church every Sunday. Anyway, that was just me. Reviews please (Especially if you fav or story alert-Would it kill you to take one moment of your time to fill out the big box below?)! But remember no flames! Next chapter is Erik's POV! See you then!**_


End file.
